Warm
by Ukaisha
Summary: In the late December chill, they kept each other warm. (Crenny, oneshot, gift for Dylan SP Secret Santa 2013)


A/N: This story was written as a gift for Dylan for the South Park Secret Santa 2013.

Short cute fluffy Crenny one shot goodness yup.

Enjoy.

* * *

Warm

Craig pulled up the sleeve on his jacket to check his watch. The action was not performed with any degree of impatience or impertinence; it was slow and purposeful, and after he acknowledged the time and figured in his head how late he was, he pulled the sleeve down again, and he crammed his hands back under his arms for warmth.  
His hands were very cold; he was only wearing black fingerless gloves, so that he could operate his camera, and in late December in Northern Colorado, any uncovered inch of skin would feel frozen in minutes.

Craig had been waiting half an hour.

Craig should have felt taken advantage of or at least bothered for being made to wait out in the cold, but the fact was that it had been his request that he come to begin with. Craig had wanted to do the article and he'd wanted to do the impromptu photo shoot. He was doing Craig a favor, and Craig knew it.

So he waited, Coldly, but patiently, he waited.

He was leaning against the cold brick wall of an apartment complex, one of the newer ones in Arvada, where he was attending some third rate shit hole community college on the government's dime. He was majoring in photography, but ultimately he was pursuing something related to journalism, or what his parents called "a completely useless degree."  
But what the hell; it was the government, not them, paying for it.

Arvada wasn't much of an improvement going from some backwoods shit hole to a slightly more populated shit hole, but Arvada was not South Park, and that alone was a major plus.

Something fell from the sky a few feet to his left. The abrupt entrance might have startled anyone else, but not only was Craig expecting it; Craig was also not anyone else.

"You're late," he said, in an even tone that even now refused to imply impatience. It was almost like a casual observation, and so it was again when he glanced up and found Mysterion walking towards him, keeping close to the wall in the shadows and keeping his hood down. His entrance, falling from the sky and all, had obviously been anticipated.

"I apologize for being tardy," Mysterion said in his rumbling voice. It was a little deeper than in their childhood years, but still very forced, and unnervingly familiar. He'd gotten better at impersonating Christian Bale. "I had a very pressing matter to attend to elsewhere; I tried to come as close to the promised time as I could."

Craig just shrugged and began toying with his camera. The lighting had changed quite a lot since he had arrived; it was darker, and he was wondering if the flash would ruin the mysterious effect he'd been going for.

"Do you want to start with pictures, or...?"

"Yes, pictures. While there's still a little light. Then I have a few questions to ask if that's alright."

"Sure, sure, just get on with it." Mysterion was already impatient, which Craig thought was kind of immature of him. He'd waited for more than half an hour for him to arrive. He could afford to wait a few minutes.

None the less, he decided it was worth his time to placate him. "I appreciate you coming," Craig said, and he surprised himself even with the sincerity in his voice. "Everyone here is still kind of scared of you; they don't know what your game is or what you're trying to do."

Mysterion just made a deep noise in his throat to express his agreement. "It's better for them to not know who I am," he explained. "That's why I had to leave South Park. But I don't mind them knowing a little bit about me; just enough to satisfy them."

"That's what I'm here for. Now, pictures."

Mysterion nodded and asked, "Where?"

"Just, like, mysterious poses." Craig unscrewed his lens cap and, holding the camera in two hands, he lifted it a few inches away from his face. "Just try a few things and we'll see what works."

They took various pictures as the shadows descended and dusk overtook the city. Mysterion crouched next to buildings and climbed up drainage pips and hung off of fire escapes and did any number of impressive action poses, all of which they both agreed looked pretty silly in reality but looked pretty bad ass on camera. It was nearly half an hour before Craig was satisfied, after taking multiple shots sometimes of the same pose over and over again, and then Mysterion was even more impatient than before.

"Are we done?" Mysterion asked.

Craig nodded, almost dismissively. He was going through his camera. "For now, yeah. I wanted to record you asking a few questions, but you showed up kind of late." Finally, for the first time, a little impudence broke in his voice, and Mysterion was quick to notice it.

"I really am truly sorry," he said, his voice a little gentler than normal. "I honestly didn't mean to be so late."

"I don't care," Craig said frankly. He had been late. Whether he'd meant it or not was not something that concerned him. "Thank you for letting me shoot you, though."

It was with this casual remark that Mysterion felt he'd been dismissed, and while this rubbed him wrong, he didn't comment on it. He sighed and turned on his heel, letting his cape catch the wind as he spun towards the opposite direction. "You're welcome. Good night. I trust you'll produce a good article."

Craig acknowledged him with a wave of his hand, and Mysterion briskly walked off.

Craig was holding out his camera, struggling a little to replace the lens cap with his fingers frozen stiff. He was wrinkling his nose, feeling a sneeze building and trying to hold it, but it was no use; the sneeze came up on him, sudden and fast, and he buried his face in his sleeve to cover it when it finally burst.

His arm was only outstretched for a moment, but it was a moment too long. He heard the scuffling on the pavement just as he released the sneeze, and before he could turn around to find its source, something had deftly removed the camera from his hand.

When he looked up again, he saw a figure running into the distance, dressed all in black and nearly invisible as he fled into the night.

All at once, out of nowhere, as though a spark had suddenly caught and ignited inside of him, he was furious. Craig could not remember the last time he had been so livid, so utterly consumed with seething hatred for another human being that he had completely lost his indefinite pool of patience.

That camera had cost more than he'd spent on all of his course books. That camera had cost more than it had taken for him to get to Arvada. That camera was EVERYTHING.

Anger scrunched his face up into something dreadful, something very ugly, and a scream very unlike his own exploded from his chest.

He began running, almost blindly. He wasn't used to this city, not as much as South Park, and it was dark. He had almost no chance of catching him, especially after being taken off guard, and he knew this. It only made him angrier.

But still he ran, and still he yelled. "THIEF!" he screamed. "FUCKING THIEF!" But he couldn't keep going. He wasn't used to this much exertion; he wasn't into sports, he wasn't very athletic, and he was, by no means or in any sense of the word, a runner. His swift burst of fury-inspired speed got him far enough to see the thief cut across the street, even pausing for a second to let a car speed by, and then he began to slow.

A gust of wind rushed by him, followed by the swish of a cloak, and a figure pushed past him as he slowed to a jog on the sidewalk. He saw it cross the street at a dead sprint, not even hesitating to run into oncoming traffic as he pursued the thief.

Craig began to pick up speed again, running through the cross walk and in the direction he'd last seen them go. The street lights were providing just barely enough vision to guide his way, but he realized in very short notice that he'd lost them, and he began to slow down again to a brisk jog.

His breath coming in loud little puffs and his heart beating right in his ears, Craig looked around hopelessly for a sign while his sudden, swiftly engulfing anger had already begun to subside. In the deep winter's darkness only broken by the faint glimmer of street lights, it seemed impossible that he would find them.

It wasn't until he stopped running and bent over, holding himself up by his knees so he could take a nice deep breath, that he heard a scuffle from up ahead.

And then voices.

Craig found it in him to pick himself up and jog over towards it, and just in between two buildings, in a spit of free land hardly deserving of the title "alley," he found them.

The perpetrator was probably their age; just some stupid kid. Both he and the balaclava he'd had over his face were on the ground, but it didn't appear that Mysterion had roughed him up any. Inches away from him, Mysterion was crouching down, getting right in his face, looking right into his eyes, and grumbling passionately at him in his deep voice. He was holding out the camera in the hand closest to Craig, and the other hand held the culprit's shirt in his fist.

In the second he realized all of this, both of the other boys looked up towards Craig, who was still panting. He grabbed onto the corner of one of the buildings for support, and he couldn't even say anything. He just weakly gave a little thumb's up.

Mysterion's mouth twitched with a repressed grin, but he slightly loosened his grip on the camera so that he could also give a little thumb's up.

It was a mistake. The boy thief seized his chance to jab Mysterion hard in the windpipe, and while he sputtered for air and let go of his shirt in surprise, the thief took the momentary advantage poke him right in both eyes.

Blinded briefly, Mysterion leaned back and threw his free hand over his eyes, giving the kid plenty of room to weasel out from beneath him. Without another glance at Mysterion, he grabbed the camera and he hastened to his feet.

This time, Craig was ready for him, and he tried to cut off the kid's escape. He grabbed for the camera and threw a hard punch at the side of the kid's head, and he felt it connect with a satisfying THUD. But a moment the kid looked stunned and he cried out, but it wasn't enough to stop him, and worse; thea kid was playing dirty. Before Craig could reel in for another punch, he earned a swift knee in the balls for his trouble, and he went down, down, down.

The kid slipped by him as he knelt to the ground with a choked gasp and tears in his eyes, and he was done. Let the kid have the camera. Let the fucker have it. It wasn't worth the trouble.

Mysterion was not done. He got back to his feet and dashed past Craig and out of the alley, and he turned the corner so hard he whipped Craig's face with his cape.  
He turned the corner so hard, he slipped on a patch of ice, and his foot bent at an angle that feet should never be bent to.  
Despite the ringing in his ears, Craig heard the crack and the resulting howl of anguish, and then Mysterion also went down, down, down.

In the distance, the thief's shoes were thudding gently into the darkness. Then, there was silence.

Craig slowly pulled himself up to his feet, using the building to support his body with one hand and the other hand to support his aching groin. He heard Mysterion struggling around on the ground, and when he turned to look at him, he found he'd gotten to his knees. He couldn't seem to get any further than that.

Craig limped over to Mysterion, careful to step over the patch of ice, and he put a hand on his shoulder. "Need help?" he said. He was still winded, both from the sprinting it had taken to get here and from the unjust assault on his nether region.

"No," Mysterion said. His grumbling voice usually sounded slightly pissed off anyway, (Craig figured it was part of the persona) but now it sounded more pissed off than usual. His teeth were clenched, and he beat the ground with a fist, snarling at it. "I can't believe I fucking lost it. I had it right there. It was right in my _hand_!"

"It's not your fault I lost it, alright?" Craig said flatly. Sure, he was upset about losing the camera; sure, he was dreading having to ask his parents for the money for another one. But that was all a faraway, minor discomfort. Craig did not dwell on things he could not control. They simply were. "If you hadn't been there I would have lost it anyway. I wouldn't have gotten anywhere near catching that punk. You tried. Thank you. Now stop sulking like a child and let me help you up."

Mysterion quietly refused to depend upon him for support and pushed him away, but Craig wouldn't hear of it; he managed to find a firm foothold on the slippery ice, and he managed to pull him up. Mysterion had a stern grimace on his face the whole time, especially when he tried setting his left foot on the ground, and he found that he couldn't do much more than barely tap it with his toes.

Relying heavily on Craig, he stood unevenly with one foot hovering in the air, and he scowled. "I think I might need help," he grumbled, not quite looking at him as he admitted this.

Craig shrugged, knowing full well that Mysterion could feel it, and he concurred. "That much seemed obvious."

"I'm so fucking sorry, dude. He just caught me off guard; I shouldn't have let myself get distracted."

"It's over. It's in the past. It's done with. I'll have to ask my parents for another camera, and well, fuck it; I got Christmas in a few days and my birthday in January. I'll ask them for a twofer and they'll just have to deal."

Mysterion he was trying to loosen the brown boot on his left foot, and gritting his teeth the whole time.

"Think I did a hell of a job on it," Mysterion grunted, and then he winced as the boot finally shifted a bit. "I can't even touch it."

"I'll take a look at it when we get back," Craig assured him. He pulled Mysterion's free arm over his shoulders and grabbed it with his hand to hold him down, and then he braced himself by wrapping the other arm around his body, resting his hand on his hip. He winced a bit; he still hadn't completely recovered and he was still tender enough that it made him walk kind of funny. "Ready?"

Mysterion nodded and pushed off of the building. He hopped a bit in place to get his balance, and he resolved himself to the fact that he would have to be putting almost all of his weight on Craig. He couldn't even limp on the foot. The need for dependency agitated him, but he didn't say it; his lips merely closed into a thin chapped line as he scowled.

Craig waited for Mysterion to get a firm hold on him, and then he slowly began making his way down the street, mindful of ice patches, and careful not to go too fast for the hopping superhero.

They were lucky. After nightfall, the tiny city was almost dead, and on campus, most of the students had left to visit home during the winter holidays. Only a few odd people saw Craig carrying the mysterious super hero, but he was dressed differently than usual; thicker clothing, better prepared for winter, and his hood was up. Better yet, folks were not quite so nosy as they were in a small town. They saw a guy limping around with a hood up, and for the most part, they minded their own business.

The halls to the dormitories were empty, and Craig shambled all the way down one of them until he reached his door. He managed to balance Mysterion while he fished for his keys out of his pocket, and he thrust one into the keyhole.

"I really appreciate this," Mysterion said in his rumbling voice as he unlocked the door.

"Shut up," Craig said, his delivery as flat as ever, and plainly not mad at all.

The dorm room was tiny, but not substandard, and inside it was two small desks, a mini fridge with a microwave on top, two twin beds with a bedside table propping up a lamp in between them, and two large wooden lockers side by side; they looked rather similar to wardrobes if not for the padlocks on the doors. It was cold in the room, but significantly warmer than outside, and anyway, a pathetically small space heater squatting in the far corner would probably be able to provide a little extra heat later.

Craig held the door open while Mysterion limped inside, holding the wall for support. There wasn't a lot of room for maneuvering, but he managed to get inside without much hassle, and, lacking anywhere else to go, he plopped on the edge of the bed closest to the door and held his leg straight out. He sighed loudly from the exertion all of these simple actions took, and he wiped the cold sweat on his forehead off on his sleeve.

"Thanks man," he said. His voice was suddenly much less grumbling and much more boyish, much more pleasant.

Craig took one last glance outside to be sure that no one had seen them come in, and then he closed the door and locked it. "You're just lucky as fuck that no one saw you take a fall like that, Ken."

Kenny pulled the hood down from his head and the mask from his face, and again he wiped his forehead on his sleeve. Despite the cold, he was still sweating. "Yeah, I know," he mumbled. He was massaging his throat where the punk had winded him; it was clear it was all still fresh in his mind.

"The point of you leaving South Park was so you could play superhero in a town where no one knew where you were. If you wind up in a hospital and they force you to reveal yourself, that's basically the end of your little adventure."

"Well, the point of YOU leaving was so you could stop associating with the people in our beloved little mountain town, and yet, here you are." Kenny gestured to himself, humorlessly, and Craig likewise did not seem to find it funny.

"Just stop being a little shithead," Craig said, finally allowing a little admonition to creep into his voice.  
"No promises," Kenny replied.

Kenny began taking off his boots, pulling off the uninjured one first and throwing it off somewhere, and then very, very gingerly, he began undoing the boot on his injured foot. He winced and clenched his teeth a few times during the process, but otherwise he remained quiet.

Craig left him alone and began moving slowly around the room. He undid the combination lock on the door to his locker, and he yanked the doors open. The inside wasn't too messy, not immaculate but certainly not a junkyard, but it took him a minute or two to reach his goal: a little box of Ziploc baggies.

He plucked a bag from the box and then moved to the mini-fridge, where he grabbed a tray of ice cubes from the little cubby-like freezer at the top. He cracked a few free and dumped them into the baggie, and finally, he wrapped it in paper towel once over.

"Here," he called to the bed. Kenny had enough time to look up before the baggie was sailing towards his head, and he caught it in both hands. "Prop your foot up with pillows and put that on your ankle," Craig instructed.

"Ice it?" Kenny repeated, incredulous. "Dude, I just came in from like barely zero weather, and you want me to _ice_ it?"

Craig sighed. "Just do it." He pulled up his sleeve and glanced at the time, and then he shook his head. Kenny didn't have a lot of time to recover at this rate. "Visitors still have to leave by ten on weekdays," he informed Kenny. "I can give you about a little less than three hours, but then you gotta scram. Got it?"

"Is what's his name still here?" Kenny asked, without explicitly acknowledging the instructions. He had done half as much as Craig wanted; the bag of ice was now draping over his ankle. However, instead of using the pillows to prop up his foot, they were instead being placed behind his back.

"My roommate? Nah, he's gone until Sunday. Christmas with the folks in Fairplay for a few days."

"Bully for him," Kenny said. He stretched out and pillowed his arms under his head so he could settle in more comfortably. "So what you're saying is, I got about five days and some change before he gets back."

"What I'm saying is," Craig repeated as he moved closer to the bed. "You have to leave at ten." Then, without warning, he swiped the pillow out from behind Kenny's back, and, surprised, Kenny fell back and knocked his head against the wall.

"Ow; jeeze, alright, fine. No need to be a dick about it," he pouted as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Well, I'm sorry that I'm still in a bad mood because my very expensive camera was stolen right from under me."

"And I said sorry for that! Jeeze, you're no fun at all are you?"

Craig picked up his foot, careful not to disturb the bag of ice perched on top of his ankle, and he slid the pillow underneath it. "You don't need to be doing anything fun anyway," he chastised. That was Craig; telling it like it was. "I heard that shit crack as you went down. You better stay off of it for a few days."

"It probably ain't broken, I've fucked it up this bad before." He lifted the leg slightly to curiously look it over it a little, but when the bag started slipping, he set the foot back down and readjusted it. "And besides," he added coyly, "I don't need to leave a bed to have fun."

"You're disgusting," Craig said flatly.

Kenny winked and then replied, "Only for you, babe."

"Don't call me 'babe.' I _will_ punch you."

"Whatever you say, sugar."

"I'm serious," said Craig in the most serious voice he could manage.

"I know, snookums." Kenny acknowledged in a perfectly solemn voice.

"You just go right on and keep pushing me today and see what else you get broken. I dare you."

Kenny just cackled to himself and leaned against the wall with a smug look on his face. He was doing an admirable job of hiding it, but the blush creeping into Craig's cheeks was plain to see.

Craig undid his jacket and pulled it off, hanging it back up in the locker. He undid his boots and pulled them off, also placing them in the bottom of the locker. Then, he propped the space heater up on his desk, shoving his laptop out of the way to give it a wide berth, and then he switched it on. It began to grumble and blow air that was not all that much warmer than the ambient temperature, but Craig put it to maximum heat and switched it to its highest setting, and it diligently poured out whatever heat it could manage.

Lastly, before he left it, Craig peeled off his wet black gloves and set them on top of the heater to dry.

Kenny was pretending to sleep on the bed, (it was obvious he was pretending; his eyes were shut too tightly and his breathing came too quickly) but Craig didn't disturb him. He just crawled into bed next to him and settled in, resting his head on his chest and not saying a word.

"I can't call you 'babe' but you want to cuddle?" Kenny asked, sounding amused but not opening his eyes; he merely cracked a little grin as he spoke.

"This isn't cuddling. You're hogging my only pillows so I have nothing else to put my head on. Also, I'm cold, because a certain mysterious asshole left me standing in the streets for half an hour."

Kenny put a hand to Craig's face and was disturbed to find it still freezing to the touch. "Shit, dude, why didn't you say something? You're frozen." And he quickly pulled the blanket out from under them and threw it over them, mostly over Craig.

"You see, I think it would be implied that if someone were standing outside in the middle of winter in Colorado, they would probably be cold," Craig deadpanned. Regardless, he still took the blanket.

"I'm really, really sorry I was late," Kenny begged his pardon while he hugged him tight to share body heat. "There's this cop...fuck man, like, a patrol officer, like a goody two shoes new kid, hardly even a real cop yet. And he's trying to blackmail me. The other cops in this city are chill with me and they aren't going to arrest me or anything, but this asshole, he's trying to push me. Says he wants me to pay him to keep his mouth shut."

"Rough him up a bit," Craig suggested. "Not a lot, just enough to let him know he needs to keep his prick under control."

"I can't do that; you know it's bad for my image. I gotta be a symbol and everything, and what kind of symbol goes around beating up cops for doing their job?"

"Well, you obviously have to do something to take care of him. Beat him up. Blackmail him back. Pay him what he wants. I don't care. But do something."

Kenny hesitated, and then he said, slowly, "I was thinking of changing cities."

Craig didn't immediately respond to this, but he did make a sort of noncommittal grunt into his chest, so Kenny figured that was about as good as he was going to get.

"I was thinking...this gig, it's not gonna work for a small town dude. Arvada's better than South Park, but not by much. I need to go somewhere big, like Denver or something. And I gotta switch things up and ditch the cape and underwear and make up some new identity. Mysterion will have to go."

Craig's only response was, "Oh." Again, entirely noncommittal and without any particular emphasis.

"So probably after the holidays and everything settles down a bit, I'm going to make my way to Denver. My lease expires in January anyway, so, probably around there."

"This semester doesn't expire until March," Craig said, matter-of-factly, like this fact alone should throw a major wrench into his plans.

"Yeah, I know." Kenny squirmed uncomfortably. "I was, um...I was just thinking you should stay here and finish school."

Subtlety was not Kenny's strong point, and it for damn sure wasn't Craig's either. He summed it up, bluntly: "You're leaving me."

"I'm not leaving you, I just think I need to move on, and I know I can't take you with me."

"You can take me with you," Craig answered slowly, as though he thought Kenny were just being intentionally stupid and he needed to have it broken down for him. "You just have to wait until March, that's all. When I finish this semester, I'll transfer. If you want to go to Denver, that's fine, I don't care."

"I can't stay here that long," Kenny insisted impatiently. "This idiot won't get off my back. I think he's tailing me to my apartment and he might even start asking you questions."

"If he does, I'll tell him I don't know you. Simple."

"Craig, I don't think you're listening dude. I don't want to get you in trouble," Kenny finally burst out in exasperation. He began hastily trying to explain himself. "If I get arrested again, I'm not bringing you down with me. And if you come with me to Denver then it's just going to be this all over again. You told me from the start you didn't want to be involved; well, you're getting involved, and I'm trying to uninvolve you. I'm not _leaving_ you, not like _that;_ it's not like I don't-" But Kenny didn't quite finish. It was too awkward to say. They never said it. It was a rule.  
So that they wouldn't get involved.

Craig was silently mulling all of this over, managing to somehow remain calm and outwardly indifferent despite the plight presented to him. He hadn't moved his head from Kenny's chest; they both just continued laying quietly together. "And if I say I do want to be involved?" he asked.

"You don't," Kenny answered promptly. "You still want me to quit Mysterion altogether and you think it's stupid and you think I'm being an idiot. But if it comes between me not being here and me being Mysterion, you'll take Mysterion."

It was an uncannily accurate depiction of Craig's feelings right then. It wasn't fair that Kenny knew him so well and he hardly knew him at all; at least, he felt like he didn't. People always said Kenny was an open book and Craig was a closed door, but often, to Craig, it seemed the other way around.

"Okay, so then you already know," Craig continued. "If you're invested in this vigilante bullshit, then I'm coming to Denver with you, and nothing you say is changing my mind."

"What happened to you not wanting to get involved?" Kenny asked.

"I think I'm already too involved to say that anymore." When Craig lifted his head to look Kenny in the face as he spoke, Kenny looked both surprised and confused, like he couldn't quite wrap his mind around what he was saying.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "You've never been involved; the whole point of this was to not get involved."

"I mean, I think this goes beyond us being fuck buddies right now," he said bluntly, and then he began to elaborate. "When you said you were coming to Arvada, I planned it so I could come here for college sort of like, whatever. I wanted to get out of South Park anyway. It didn't matter then; if I hadn't gotten my grant and I couldn't have come then it wouldn't have really bothered me. But just now, when you said you were moving on again and I couldn't come, all of a sudden, it terrified me. The thought of losing you just now actually scared me shitless," he reiterated, just in case Kenny hadn't quite caught on yet that he wasn't just being serious; he really meant every word he said.

Kenny was just gaping at him, speechless, and Craig didn't hadn't even raised his voice yet; he hadn't spoken with any more feeling than usual. He was just as he always was; stating facts, stating the truth. Telling him how it was.

"Do you mean that?" Kenny asked, still sort of disbelieving, still half-gaping at him as he spoke.

He didn't even have to ask. "I don't lie about this shit," Craig said, frankly. "So now you know in the simplest terms possible. I'm involved. And if you think you can just walk away and go play superheroes and not involve me, then you're damn wrong McCormick and you better fucking guess again."

"Fuck dude," Kenny said softly, and he ran his fingers through his hair. There was still a goofy look on his face. "Why didn't you say all that earlier?"

"You didn't ask."

Kenny just scoffed and shook his head, and a little smirk crept onto his face. "Well, fuck," he muttered. It was all he said.

"I understand if you're not involved," Craig said, very carefully. His words were cold, as usual, but underneath, they carried a little hurt. "I'm not going to make a scene over it. But I'm also not letting you go that easily."

"Christ, no, that's not it. I've been involved too, I just didn't know how to tell you. I didn't realize- I thought we were still-"

"Fuck buddies," he finished, succinct and to the point as ever. "Friends with benefits. No attachments."

"Well, yeah, and just...fuck, man, I didn't know."

"You didn't ask," Craig said again, sounding irritated about having to repeat himself.

"Then I'll ask you somethin' now, and let's stop pussy footin' around it and lay it all out in the open, 'cause I want us to be crystal; got it?"

"Alright," Craig agreed.

"Do you like me?"

"Yes."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Are you willing to let me keep making a fool of myself in costumes as a vigilante?"

"Yes, but I'll still think you're being asinine as hell, and next time you bust your ass in the middle of a pursuit I'll be laughing my ass off."

Kenny repressed a little grin, but then he pressed the point. "But you won't make me stop?"

Craig shrugged. "Not if it makes you happy."

"If I get arrested?"

"Fuck it; I'll bail you out. We've both been to juvie before; who gives a fuck?"

"If this fuckstick of a cop tries to blackmail me?"

"I'll go fuck him up _for_ you if you won't."

"And if we started, you know, being open about it, that would be okay?"

"Yes, but-" Craig held up a finger in front of his face. One condition. "-you cannot call me pet names," he said firmly. "That is final."

Kenny just laughed stupidly and hugged him closer. He clearly wanted to do more, but with his ankle firmly planted in the pillow at the foot of the bed, he could only go so far. "God, if that's all you want. You're such an asshole; I didn't think you would ever admit you had anything resembling a boyfriend. I know, I know," Kenny said as Craig opened his mouth. He finished, mocking: "I didn't ask."

"Well, you didn't," Craig grumbled defensively. His ears had gone slightly pink again.

"I guess I can wait until March," Kenny finally conceded. He looked a little uneasy as he said this, but Craig actually smiled in response, and it made Kenny grin. "I'll just have to be more clever about moving around the city and try to talk some sense into this asshole."

"Or I can talk sense into him for you," Craig offered.

"Not if you're using your fists to talk to him."

Craig just shrugged innocuously. "Some people understand an argument better with visual aid."

Kenny chucked anxiously. Then, he asked again, sort of hesitantly: "You honestly don't mind...?"

"No," Craig said swiftly, putting an end to all discussion. "If you're leaving, I'm leaving, and I'm perfectly happy with that."

"Then I'll be happy too."

"Good."

Craig didn't seem to have anything else to say; it was like he'd said all he wanted to for the moment and he was content to just lay there, smiling with him. However, for Kenny, there was one more small matter to be decided. "So can I say the magic words, or...?"

"What would those words be?"

"You know," Kenny wheedled. "THE words. The words you told me from the beginning I wasn't allowed to say."

"Oh, those." He contemplated. "Yeah, I guess if we're going to do this right, you should."

"Do you want me to, or are you just saying that because you think I'm supposed to or something?"

"I don't know; I'm not sure. Tell me and I'll let you know how I feel about it."

Kenny took a deep breath. He hadn't even thought he'd be able to say this; not to Craig, anyway. He'd erected a giant wall around Craig in his mind and told himself that these words and those feelings were not allowed to cross; not for any reason. And yet, here he was, shivering in Craig's dorm room and lying in Craig's bed and lying in Craig's arms, and saying the forbidden words to Craig himself. "I love you."

As for Craig, he shivered down to his toes and couldn't help but flush red hot. All of the cold had finally left him and he was keenly aware of how close Kenny's face was to his and that he could hear his breathing. "Alright," he admitted. "I think I like that now."

"Yeah?"

"See, this was opposite. The first time you said it, it was like just now, when you told me you were leaving. I was scared shitless. I was freaked out because I didn't want a relationship. That was when I wasn't involved. That shit was off limits. Now, it's like, it's like...I finally feel warm."

"About damn time, Tucker," Kenny said with a smirk. "I was getting real tired of your cold ass stealing all of my body heat."

"Yeah, well, don't leave me waiting for so long next time," he countered, and he meant it in more ways than one. Then, awkwardly, he started mumbling, not really making words. "I, um, I-"

"You don't have to say it yet," Kenny assured him when nothing quite coherent came out. "I can wait."

"No, damn it, I'm gonna say it too." He expelled a deep breath and let the words come tumbling out in an uneven rush. "Iloveyou."

Kenny just chuckled and shook his head. "You're so adorable sometimes," he said. "Am I allowed to say that?"

"No."

"Oh but why, sweetie pie?"

"Because just because I love you doesn't mean I won't still punch you." Craig matched his grin haughtily. "I dare you," he said again. "Try me."

"How about we try this, instead." Kenny kissed him, very lightly, just barely brushing his lips, and the heat spread down and warmed him all throughout his body. They had never kissed in anything but lust, and this chaste, simple peck was so much sweeter than any other time before. Craig could not lie; he was dumbstruck. "Have you ever tried to make love rather than fuck?" Kenny asked innocently before Craig had quite gotten his breath back.

As promised, Craig very lightly punched the side of his face. "No, and don't tell me the great Kenny McCormick ever did either."

"Maybe I haven't; I just thought we could maybe try together. You know, since we're trying new things today."

"Your ankle," Craig pointed out.

"Hell, if all I'm doing is lying here," Kenny said suggestively, and he winked.

And for almost the next hour, they kept each other warm, and when Kenny could move his ankle again, (enough to reposition on the bed, anyway) they snuggled up in the blanket and kept each other warm, and when it was dark and they were both half asleep and Kenny mumbled something about needing to go, Craig flat out ignored him, and when the space heater went out and the room went cold in the late December chill, they kept each other warm.


End file.
